+18 eps. 12-16 - Gillian and Brock face huge changes in their lives after she leaves the PD and he moves back to DC. But no matter what, looks like they just can't help coming across each other.
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Banks, Fred and Ron watched Connor slain Brandon, while their women chattered a couple of steps away. All of them heard Gillian's laughter from the kitchen and looked up.
"Those two are a nice piece of work," said Ron with a mild smile.
Banks nodded, agreeing.
"Yeah," said Fred. "It's like they hate caring about each other, but they just can't help it."
"I don't know how Reg does it," said Kurt from the couch. "I mean, how can she find any fun around Brockner."
Fred and Ron recalled Brock and Gillian back in Portland, when he'd made her profile the subject. They raised their eyebrows, tried to come up with a short answer and didn't find any, so they shrugged.
The other two came out of the kitchen then. Gillian still chuckled and Brock wore a mild smile. The rest of the men hurried to intercept the six-pack he carried, and he needed to fetch another before the requests for more beer were all satisfied. Gillian sat on the armrest of the couch by Connor, who was putting up a fair fight against Tanya—and losing miserably.
When they tried to make her play, she fled to the table, where she found Brock opening a beer.
He saw her come and for some reason felt he could finally relax. Hand to heart, he was tired of sulking. And he was curious, too. Would they be able to share a little socialization, interact even if there was no profiling involved? It was safe to try then, too. Her friends were all around, so it was going to be one of Gillian's easy chatters, aware the others would be eavesdropping. There would be one or two edges because it was Gillian, but that would just spice the moment up.
"A beer, please, Agent Brockner?" she asked.
He handed her one, scoffing. "You know, it's really awkward that you keep calling me that," he said. With that relaxed clarity he'd just found, he realized only the two of them knew how awkward it actually was, since nobody else understood either of them like they understood each other. Her smile told him she agreed.
Gillian did agree, of course. And she'd rather die than addressing the subject. So she offered a diplomatic partial truth, not to dive into such deep waters. "You saved my life what, four times already? One day it's gonna be me having your back, and maybe then I can call you different."
It was an honorable exit that didn't include a Japanese blade. The deal of the century. Gone in three, two... "You're keeping score? That's some serious trust issue, Gillian."
She swallowed her surprise at his quick reply. Brock, so casual and smiling? This was a side of him she didn't know, and that she totally wanted to meet. "Profiling me, sir? Again?"
"I still remember when you called me a big heart behind a scowl, you know," he replied. It was so easy, and it felt light, and fine.
Gillian loved it. She wanted him to keep smiling forever. And she just couldn't help herself. "You should be grateful I didn't voice my personal label for you."
Warning: edge. What was she talking about? Brock faked a serious scowl. She lowered her voice, looking away with a... Wait, a shy smile? Okay, this had to be definitely worth hearing.
"Stupid caring man," she muttered, her voiced warmed in that weird affection she harbored for him.
Brock had to lower his head to hear her. He met her eyes, frowning and smiling at her at the same time. "Stupid...?"
"...caring man," she repeated, feeling the heat lash her face.
He raised his eyebrows. Okay, memo to come back to it later. Twenty years later. Then his look slid past her. Everybody's eyes were fixed on them.
Gillian glanced over her shoulder. Without transition, her voice went up to her normal volume and her best smartass way. "Sorry, guys, but we're not having wild sex on the table for you while my son is in the room."
All of them laughed and tried to send Connor away, then they resumed their games and conversations.
Gillian faced Brock and found him still smiling, shaking his head. Embarrassed. Her knuckles went white around the bottle, her other hand pressing her leg, not to throw her arms around his neck, laughing out loud. Oh, my, how come the stupid bitter man could be so frigging cute?
"C'mon, Agent Brockner, don't smile like that. I might feel like hugging you."
She was only teasing him, so he played along. "Don't you even think about it, Gillian."
"I would never dare, sir." Such a flat, shameless lie! She hoped he'd let her get away with it.
He did, of course. That night, the run for the Chicken of the Year Award was a tight race.
"Sir, Gillian? It's Brock."
"It's Reg, sir."
Russell and Aldana walked in from the backyard and joined Ron, Fred and Banks.
"Well, that's something you don't see every day," she said, her chin pointing at Gillian and Brock teasing each other.
Ron turned his back on them. "We better stop staring, or Reg's gonna make another sex joke and Brockner's gonna have a heart attack."
Russell's eyes were like grapefruits. "Joke about what?"
Fred and Aldana laughed while Banks sighed. "Another heart attack on the making."
.
.
Keep reading on the next book: Three Libras - BLACKBIRD book 4
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